


Whatever Tomorrow Brings

by deanandsam



Series: Summergen fics [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Dean gets triggered, Gen, Supernatural Summergen 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 05:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanandsam/pseuds/deanandsam
Summary: Summary:- Dean gets triggered by what one might consider the most innocuous of sights, but it affects him in a way even he can’t understand, until he does!





	Whatever Tomorrow Brings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissyJack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyJack/gifts).

> Author’s Note:- Thanks to missyjack for the great prompts, but I was inspired by the first one.  
‘It’s not a curse or spell, it’s just that one day 'a character' realizes they are getting old.’  
A shout out to janicec678 who so kindly acted as beta for me. Thank you.  
Any eventual typos are on me alone.

Dean always saw himself reflected in Sam, his little brother a mirror for all of Dean’s hopes and fears. 

That’s how it had been since the older Winchester first carried six-month old Sammy out of their burning house, held him tight in his childish arms and felt the overwhelming rush of protectiveness flow through his skinny body.  
That feeling had never left him, was still there even now when Sam was a six-foot-four gigantor, expert in hunting, lore and spells and eminently capable of looking out for himself.  
Was it right? Was it healthy? Dean wasn’t searching for an answer, didn’t need to debate the question, for just as the moon circled the Earth, Dean revolved around Sam.  
Again, that’s just how it was and it seemed in no way unusual to Dean. It was his “normal.”

So when he found himself staring at Sam’s messy hair, just to notice a grey strand peeking almost shyly from the tousled mass, that’s when he felt an unwelcome jolt to his soul, the perception of something changing in him. Something which wormed its way unwanted through his mind and body until it gained momentum, rolling madly like an ever-growing snowball down a mountainside before shattering into a million flakes at the bottom.  
He was getting old; his little brother Sammy was getting old!

‘You’ve got a couple of grey hairs,’ Dean muttered almost silently but not low enough that Sam didn’t pick up on the words.  
‘You just noticing now?’ Sam asked, raising a questioning eyebrow. ‘The spring chicken years are long gone, dude.’  


Dean pushed down the feeling of despair, of incumbent mortality, exhibiting instead a devil-may-care smile. ‘You’re joking, man. I’m in the prime of my years, agile, sexy and bad-ass.’  
Sam gave a choked laugh. ‘Right! Agile, sexy and bad-ass! Got it! And while we’re talking grey hairs, you’ve got a couple too.’  
‘What? Where? No way!’  
Sam grinned. ‘For all you hog the mirror in the morning, you’ve never seen the greys because they’re at the nape of your neck.’  


Almost involuntarily, Dean’s hand rose to caress the back of his head, his expression so miserable that it caused Sam to break out in a belly-laugh.  
‘Dude, it’s not the end of the world!’  
‘No, but it’s nothing to laugh about.’  


Believing his brother was joking, overreacting in his usual dramatic Dean way, it was to Sam’s utter surprise when his sibling got up from his chair and dashed up the stairs, exiting the bunker and slamming the door behind him, leaving a perplexed little brother staring after him.

Two minutes later, Dean was sprawled in the front seat of the Impala wondering what the fuck had just happened.  
Through the windshield, the sun was setting, a fiery red ball sinking into the horizon. A sigh issued from his lips. He and Sam had been through so much, they were privy to many truths ordinary humans could never dream of, but somehow, instead of soothing Dean’s anguish, that realization scared him even more.  


They’d met God himself and he’d been more or less benevolent to them both. Surely having God on your side had to be undeniably reassuring, so why had the sight of a paltry grey hair affected him in such a manner? He’d faced down everything from monsters to demons but he’d never felt quite as disconcerted and rattled as he did now.  
However, in his heart of hearts, Dean did know why the awareness of time passing had gripped him in such an unexpected way.  
If he and Sam fell in the line of duty, taking out some fugly or other, fine. Perfectly acceptable. That was part of the job. Hunting was dangerous and old hunters were rarer than good-hearted demons.  
No, Dean’s fear was exactly the opposite. What would happen if they did manage to grow old?  


The thought of living out their old age in some isolated cabin in the hills, lazily passing the days fishing and sitting on the veranda, might sound the ideal way for him and Sam to spend their last years, but they weren’t ordinary guys. They were Winchesters and plenty of beings still had a score to settle with them.  
What an opportunity it would be for their enemies, when he and Sam were too feeble and weak to put up much of a fight, to take their revenge.  


A flutter of panic caused his heart to skip a beat. He wouldn’t be able to protect his little brother, the one person he’d vowed to always watch out for. He’d be of no help if they were attacked.  
The idea of Sam suffering, being tortured at the hands of a monster and Dean himself a rickety old-timer, unable to do more than look helplessly on, terrified him.  
Dean had never cared what might happen to himself but he DID care what happened to his baby brother. He’d never stop caring about that if they lived to be a hundred. 

He was still spiraling down into a well of illogical despair, when a tap at the window caused him to look up.  
For a moment, Sam’s worried face stared in at him before the door was pulled open and the younger man slid into the passenger seat.  


‘Dean. What the hell? What was all that about? You being triggered by grey hairs now?’  
It was one of those few times when Dean found himself at a loss for words. If he explained his feelings, Sam would probably think he’d gone crazy; yet what he was experiencing touched chords so deeply entrenched in his soul that he didn’t want to brush them off with a wisecrack.

Dean’s hands gripped the steering wheel as if to steady himself. ‘I know you’re going to laugh, Sam, but I’ve just realized I’m scared to grow old.’ He waved a finger between them. ‘For us to grow old.’  


To Sam’s credit, he managed to squash the glib comment he was about to deliver, understanding that whatever this was that Dean was brooding about, it had hit him really hard.  
Instead he remained mute to see if his brother was going to elaborate but Dean returned his gaze to the windshield, seemingly captivated by the setting sun, leaving Sam to break the silence.

‘Dean.’ The younger man spoke quietly as if addressing a frightened child. ‘You have to admit it’s kinda funny you being scared by a few grey hairs when you face off monsters as if they were purring kittens. Is there a reason why you’re so freaked out?’  
Dean passed a weary hand over his face before speaking. ‘You’re wrong, Sam. We can hardly put down the fuglies we deal with now while we’re still able. What’s it gonna be like when we need a walking-stick to get around, when our eyesight goes, our strength? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’re using reading glasses more often to get through the books on lore. And I’ve sure as hell noticed that it’s a lot harder to bounce back after getting tossed about by some pissed off ghost than it used to be, and I know you’ve got to be feeling it too. Not to mention all those hits to head you’ve taken through the years. ’

The moment felt surreal to Sam. That his brother could be so upset about a hypothetical future where they were old and weak, when the probability was a million to one that they’d die at the hands of a monster or demon long before old-age ever became an issue, seemed a non-problem, but clearly, going by Dean’s melancholic disposition, the idea was affecting him, and deeply.  


Sam shuffled his lanky body around on the seat until he was facing his sibling, trying not to think too hard about the twinge in his back as he turned in the confined space. 

‘Look at me Dean.’ Sam infused all the empathy and gentleness he was able to into his voice.  


Dean turned his head and met his brother’s hazel eyes, waiting for his sibling’s words, somehow needing to hear them, to be comforted by Sam’s impeccable logic. ‘Remember what you told me when I was the one going through a bad time? “Whatever happens, we will deal with it. Together. And if we die, we’ll do that together too.'

For a moment, Dean stilled, then the beginnings of a smile hovered on his lips. ‘Dude. I never said that! YOU'RE the one who said those words to me.’

At the sight of the burgeoning smile, Sam grinned. ‘It doesn’t matter who said them, Dean. What matters is that they’re true. Whether we die young or old, by the hand of a monster or go out as doddering seniors, it’s never gonna matter, for whatever’s waiting for us in the future, we’re going to share it together.’

With a put-upon huff, Dean snaked out a hand and yanked an offensive grey hair from Sam’s head, causing the younger man to yelp in pain. ‘Dude. What the actual fuck?’  
‘Let’s go celebrate, Sam,’ Dean declared, cranking up the Impala’s engine. ’Black coffee and pie for me and a skinny vanilla latte for you. I’m feeling myself again!’

‘Yeah,’ Sam grunted, rubbing at his scalp. ‘I can see that!’

The End


End file.
